Steele Finding Their Way
by kgmohror
Summary: Many Remington Steele fans have noticed a difference in Laura and Remington Steele's relationship in the fourth season - both seem more comfortable with their relationship and there is a new intimacy in their interactions. Here's my idea of how they got there.


_NOTE: I've been pondering how Laura and Mr. Steele got from where they were at the end of "Steele Searching" to the more intimate, "Mr. and Mrs. Steele" feeling of the rest of the fourth season. I figure they must have had a heart-to-heart talk in London. Here's my (admittedly mushy) idea of how it went down._

The click of her heels on cobblestone sounded unnaturally loud to Laura, but it was probably just that her senses were heightened, keenly attuned to the movements of the man who walked beside her. Mr. Steele's leather soles made no sound as the couple crossed the courtyard of Claridge Castle toward the waiting taxi.

Always the gentleman, Steele automatically opened the car door for Laura. As she slid in, she murmured a quiet thank-you and glanced up at him. He didn't hear her, she was certain; his usually alert blue eyes seemed dull and listless, his thoughts clearly turned inward.

As Steele made his way around the other side of the taxi and climbed in, Laura leaned forward and instructed the driver to take them back to the hotel in London. She recalled how only a couple of hours ago the man next to her was positively vibrating with nervous energy. His ordinarily nimble fingers fumbled over his handkerchief and she had helped him arrange it. She'd been amused at how flustered he was, but she could understand it. How often did one get to meet their father for the first time?

Except he hadn't. The family reunion Mr. Steele had hoped for, that he had given up his identity as Remington Steele for, turned out to be another dead end. If she was honest with herself, Laura would have to admit to some ambivalence about that fact. As the earl's son, the man she called Steele would have a new life, more exalted and glamorous than anything L.A. and the Remington Steele Agency could offer. It was a world Laura didn't understand … and didn't belong in.

And so, a tiny part of Laura was relieved when the Earl of Claridge looked into Mr. Steele's eyes and proclaimed them the wrong color. But instantly on the heels of that relief came guilt, distress – and resentment. As irrational as it was, Laura was angry that the earl didn't just accept him as his son, hazel eyes or no. Whoever his real heir was, he could be no better, no more worthy, than the handsome, heartbroken man he'd just disappointed. Mr. Steele covered his hurt with his usual smooth equanimity. But Laura felt his pain - and shared it.

Now, as the taxi carried them through the English countryside back toward the capital, Laura was at a loss for what to do. Steele was slumped against the door, staring out the window at the hedgerows flashing by. Laura wanted desperately to comfort him, to say the words that would make everything right. But though they'd mastered the art of glib banter, speaking from the heart had always been difficult for the two of them. And what was there to say, anyway?

Almost unconsciously, Laura slid her hand across the seat and placed it over his. He didn't turn from the window, but she heard him take a deep breath and he turned his hand over to entwine his fingers with hers.

Minutes passed in silence. Then: "I'm sorry, Laura." His voice was low, strained.

"Sorry for what?"

"For involving you in my bloody mess of a life."

"Funny, I was under the impression I involved myself. Besides, everybody's life is messy."

"Not to this degree, I think."

"Don't be so sure. You've met my mother."

She was grateful for his little snort of amusement. He turned from the window and Laura saw the slightest trace of a smile on his face. But his eyes were sad. "Sorry to be so maudlin," he said quietly. "I'm just trying to figure out what I'm going to do."

"The first thing you're going to do is get some rest," Laura answered firmly. "In case you hadn't noticed, you've got a pretty nasty puncture wound."

He shifted slightly and winced. "Huh. I'd forgotten about that. Been running on adrenaline the last few days, I guess. But now that you mention it…"

"Sorry."

"Believe me, this hole in my gut is the least of my worries. No passport, no identity, not a quid in my pocket. I've been in some fixes before, but-"

Laura reached over and covered his mouth with her free hand. "Rest first. Worry later."

The first order of business, upon reaching the hotel, was a change of dressing. Steele's wound still looked nasty, but astonishingly did not seem to be infected. Still, she would have Dr. Langenberg check it over, Laura decided, as soon as they got back to L.A.

They?

It occurred to Laura suddenly that she had no reason to expect he was going back to the States with her and Mildred. He had chosen to abandon his life as Remington Steele, after all. And even if he hadn't realized his dream of finding his real identity, that didn't mean he would simply revert to his old "new" life. She wasn't even sure that was possible, after everything that had happened. Laura sensed that things had changed between them. She just didn't know what that meant yet.

After dosing him with ibuprofen, Laura helped Steele hobble to the bed. Now that the rush of the past 72 hours was wearing off, he was beginning to really feel the effects of all the trauma his body had been through. Laura saw him tense as he lowered himself onto the bed and lay back. Laura covered him with a blanket from the closet and waited for him to close his eyes before moving quietly toward the door.

"Where are you going?" came his sleepy voice.

She walked back to the bed and looked down into his questioning eyes. "I'm meeting Mildred for dinner and to fill her in."

Steele raised an arm and covered his eyes with it. "Ugh. Mildred. She hates me, Laura."

"She doesn't hate you."

"She does. She called me a creep."

"So did I, and I don't hate you."

He lowered his arm a bit and peeked up at her. "You should. You've a right to. Mildred, too."

Laura reached down and brushed an errant strand of hair off his face. "You should be sleeping, not stewing. I won't be gone long." She leaned forward and kissed him softly on the forehead. "And don't you dare move from this spot. I want you in this bed when I get back." She waited a moment, looking into his eyes, then frowned slightly. "Ahem. I believe that's your cue to make some lame, suggestive remark."

"I've forfeited the right to proposition you, Miss Holt."

A little nugget of anxiety formed in Laura's stomach. "That's a shame," she answered quietly. "I kind of missed it." She walked to the door and flipped the light switch. "Get some rest … Mr. Steele."

Laura found Mildred waiting in the lobby. "Well? What happened? Did his blue-blooded Pappy welcome him with open arms?" the older woman asked.

"Unfortunately, no," Laura answered. "It was a false lead, Mildred. He's not the earl's son."

Mildred looked crestfallen. "Oh. That must have been hard for him. How's he doing?"

Laura smiled at her concern. "He's been better. He thinks you hate him, you know."

Mildred looked startled, then guilty. "Oh, Miss Holt. Of course I don't hate him. I just - I guess I don't quite know how I feel. But I could never hate him."

"I know," Laura said. "Me either. And believe me, I've tried." She thought about the broken, vulnerable man lying four floors up and felt a stab of tenderness. "Mildred, would you mind if I took a pass on dinner? I'm not sure it's a great idea to leave him alone."

"Afraid he'll bolt again?"

"No. I just think maybe he needs … someone … with him right now."

Mildred smiled. "I think he needs _someone_, too. I'll take a run down to the American Embassy and see if that rush job we're working on has been expedited. Bring you back some fish and chips?"

"Thanks, but we can order something in when he wakes up."

Laura watched the motherly woman scurry away, thankful for her soft heart and forgiving nature. She knew Mildred and "the boss" would work through this change in their relationship … assuming they had the chance.

Laura slipped back into the hotel room with all the stealth that years of investigative work had taught her. Nevertheless, before she could even close the door, Mr. Steele's voice called from the darkness. "Who is it?" He sounded anxious.

"Shh. It's me. Laura," she said, making her careful way to the bed. "Am I going to have to hit you over the head with something to get you to sleep?" She sat down on the edge of the bed opposite where he lay.

He chuckled, and she felt a surge of gladness at the sound.

"I thought you were going to dinner with Mildred."

"Changed my mind. She plans to hit the souvenir shops afterwards, and I can't keep up with her when she's on a shopping spree."

"You should rest."

"That's MY line."

She heard him carefully turn on his side and felt his hand touch her arm. "This bed is big enough for two. I promise I'll try not to take advantage of the situation."

"Ha! You're in no condition to take advantage of the situation."

"Where there's a will, there's a way."

"What was that about not propositioning me any more, Mr. Steele?" Laura laughed as she kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed beside him.

"Sorry. Force of habit." He sounded genuinely regretful, and she wished she hadn't brought it up. Was it going to be like this between them now?

There was a rustle of fabric and Laura felt Steele stretching half of the blanket over her. He grunted a little in pain as he rolled over onto his back again. Laura lay staring into the darkness above her, knowing he was doing the same. He was silent almost long enough for her to hope he'd fallen asleep. Then:

"Why did you come here, Laura?"

She considered not answering, letting him think she was sleeping. But there had already been too much deception between them. "I wanted – I needed to know you were all right," she said softly. "And …" She trailed off, afraid to say more.

He wouldn't let her off so easily. "And?"

She took a deep breath. "And I had to know why." Her heart was pounding and she fought the tremor in her voice.

"Why …?"

She rolled over onto her side, away from him. "Why you just took off, without so much as a 'sayonara, baby.'" She swallowed hard. "I needed to know why the people I care about always leave me."

"I told you, Laura. I needed to try to find out who I really am. Fat lot of good it did me."

"Sorry, not buying it," she retorted. "You could have come to me, told me what you wanted to do. I'd have helped you. We could have done this together. Instead you just disappear like a thief in the night."

"Only appropriate. I am a thief, after all."

"Don't you dare use your past as an excuse. We both know you're not that man anymore."

He laughed humorlessly. "Really? Thanks for the information. Because frankly, I don't know who the hell I am anymore."

"I'm beginning to think I don't, either. And maybe I don't want to know." Laura was instantly sorry for the harshness of her tone; why did she always snap when she was scared? It would have felt better if he'd responded in kind. But there was only silence from his half of the bed.

After a moment, Laura sighed. "You couldn't at least have said goodbye?"

"Laura," he said softly, "I knew if I saw you again, I couldn't leave."

"So why were you so determined to go?" she pleaded.

His voice was so low that she barely heard him. "Because you wanted me out of your life."

Laura sat up abruptly and peered into the darkness, trying to see his face. "What are you talking about? I never said that. I suggested we take some time to think about what we wanted. How exactly does that translate to 'Get out of my life?'"

"It wasn't just that, Laura. You know things had been difficult between us for a long time. Everything that happened in Cannes, your decision that we could only have a professional relationship-"

"I admitted I was wrong about that. Things were getting better."

"I thought so, too. Then in San Francisco-"

"This is because I wouldn't sleep with you in San Francisco?"

"No!" His tone was sharp. "Not that. God knows I'm used to _that_. It was ... what you said."

Laura felt bewildered and a little frightened. "What? What did I say?"

"That I was something you had to guard against. That I was reckless, indulgent, frivolous. Dangerous."

Laura was stunned. She remembered saying those words … But she remembered, too, how they had danced, and kissed, and looked into each other's eyes. How she had felt with his arms around her. How his eyes, his lips could make her forget everything except him. How she would have gladly spent the rest of her life in that moment.

"You misunderstood me," she said.

"It seemed pretty clear at the time."

Laura sighed, wondering if there were any use in trying to explain. But she had to. Things couldn't be left like this between them. Even if it meant they wouldn't be together.

"I wasn't talking about you," she said slowly. "I was talking about me. You know that there was a time when I was less … careful ... about how I lived my life. I let my emotions control me. I did stupid things. I got hurt. Other people got hurt. It took a long time and a lot of tears to get my life back into something resembling equilibrium."

"And I upset that balance."

"Yes. You, and the way you make me feel … it scared me to death. Still scares me." She tried to keep her voice calm and level. "Not because of you, or how you are. Your passion, the way you live on the edge – it's exciting. I love being part of that, being with you. But I can't _be_ like you. Because if I let myself get lost in that …"

"You might not find yourself again."

She nodded, though he couldn't see it. "But that doesn't mean I don't want you … in my life. It just means I have to be careful not to get carried away with that whirlwind."

Steele said nothing in response, and Laura's heart sank. Of course he didn't understand – how could he? She didn't really understand it all herself. She lay back down, feeling drained and hopeless. It was really over, then. In a little while they'd get up, turn on the light, collect their things. Say goodbye … with a kiss? She and Mildred would get on a plane. He would not. Life would go on.

At that moment she felt his hand clasp hers. It was warm. Laura closed her eyes and caught her breath. She curled her fingers around his. His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand.

"Laura." His voice was hoarse. "I don't know how to make this work. Relationships aren't exactly my field of expertise – I've spent most of my life figuring out how to get out of situations, not stay in them." He paused; she heard him breathe deeply.

"All I know is that my life – whatever that life is – just doesn't work anymore without you. These past weeks on the run, looking for something ... I thought it was my name. But it wasn't. It was you. It was feeling like I belonged somewhere, that my life mattered. All those things I felt when I was your Remington Steele. _You_ gave me those things, Laura. Finding my family, my identity, wouldn't have changed that. The truth is, I only feel like me when I'm with you."

She couldn't hold back any longer. "Oh ... thank God." She rolled against him, wrapped her arm around his chest raised her face close to his. "These last three months, trying to put up a brave front for Mildred ... I thought I'd go crazy missing you."

They kissed – deeply, and for a long while. When they parted, both were laughing, giddy with joy even as Steele gently wiped the tears from her face with his thumb.

"So what's next, Miss Holt?" he whispered as she snuggled up next to him.

"Next we sleep, Mr. Steele," she answered, cuddling closer. "And then … I have no idea. But I can't wait to find out."

END


End file.
